


Don't Hide Your Loveliness From Me

by PrettyAwkward



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And I probably always will, Enthusiastic Consent, I guess I like going against fandom tides and popular cliques, January 29 Johnlock, John Watson Loves Sherlock Holmes, M/M, POV Alternating, Sherlock Holmes Loves John Watson, Sherlock tops first and then John, Switching penetration too, Top John, Top Sherlock, switching POVs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:54:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29102895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyAwkward/pseuds/PrettyAwkward
Summary: Sherlock and John confess their love to each other. Then, sex.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/John Watson
Comments: 2
Kudos: 19





	Don't Hide Your Loveliness From Me

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta read.

They’re both drunk. Giggling and drunk. John’s drunk nearly a bottle of scotch and Sherlock is on his second glass of a very strong wine. They find a tv channel that plays only music perfect for dancing, and so, they dance.

“John, I love you.” Sherlock giggles, head resting on John’s shoulder. _Fuck._ Color flushes his pale cheeks, panic darting through his eyes like a cornered animal. He hadn’t meant to say that, the words had simply slipped out before he knew what he was saying.

Sobering immediately he yanks himself from the circle of John’s arms. “Sorry - sorry. Never mind that...it’s the alcohol.” He flaps his hand hoping to appear casual. 

He’s ruined everything. Just a minute ago they were having such a pleasant time dancing and laughing, and Sherlock had kept his feelings tucked away deep inside. And now it’s ruined. 

He spares a glance at John. 

John’s face is dark and while his cheeks are ruddy from the alcohol, his eyes are intense and sincere. “I love you, too, Sherlock.” His voice is low and genuine, his arm reaches out and grabs Sherlock’s upper arm. 

Sherlock is reasonably sure he might faint at that. His knees wobble when he tries to step back to John, and suddenly - seeing John’s navy blue eyes warm, so warm with...love? - his legs buckle, and he topples over, threatening to hit the floor, except John is there, catches him in strong hands. Sherlock comes alive, really alive, in that moment, and his hands reach every part of John’s warm and solid he can - shoulders, arme, chest, neck. Tender touches because he’s afraid he might break the look of love he sees in John’s face. John is strong and solid and he loves Sherlock. 

“It’s true, then.” John’s voice rumbles deeply from his chest, low enough Sherlock can feel it as much as hear it, the warmth spreading through every part of his body. He puts a hand at the small of Sherlock’s back and presses his body close to John’s. 

They begin dancing again, drunk off of a new substance this time. Sherlock twirls and spins and John dips him. John is madly happy. He feels this can’t be real. Sherlock is soft and laughing and perfect John’s arms. He giggles when John tells him how long he’s loved him, how much he wants him, sweet and high, and John is reminded of the videos Mycroft shared with him in secret, of Sherlock before he worked so hard to hide his voice, forcing it lower it with vocal exercises and smoking. John loves him so much right now it’s almost painful. He loves him always, any time, but like this, when he’s open and happy, not wearing his armor he is ever so special and beautiful, light and twirling with airy laughs that make John want to kiss him so bad. _So bad._ So he does. Sherlock’s eyes widen for an instant and then he’s kissing John back. 

Soft, so incredibly soft lips press against his. Groaning John grabs a pair of bony hips and pushes that lithe body against the wall. 

Sherlock cannot believe this is happening. John, _his John Watson_ , is kissing him. He’s been dreaming about this moment ever since they met. 

“John,” Sherlock whispers when John releases his mouth. He looks into that pretty face to see Sherlock smiling at him with wet, swollen lips. He starts kissing the extended pale column of his neck instead. John’s hands reach for Sherlock’s waist, causing Sherlock to gasp when strong calloused fingers trace over the thin line of his hip, making every nerve ending in Sherlock’s body spark. Pulling it back and off Sherlock’s torso, causing Sherlock’s curls to tumble across his eyes, making John laugh.

“My turn,” Sherlock smirks, pushing at John’s shirt. Sherlock has long admired John’s shoulders and arms. He wets his lips when he tugs John’s hunter green plaid shirt off his shoulders, instantly his hands map John’s body, slide over broad shoulders, down strong, muscular biceps and forearms. 

John kisses him like he’s _starving_ , and Sherlock, clever Sherlock reciprocates beautifully. John reaches out instinctively at the clasp of Sherlock’s trousers but Sherlock’s hand softly pushes his away and instead shifts closer to John’s body until they’re touching chest to chest. 

Sherlock moans, relishing the tantalizing rasp of John’s sparse, coarse chest hair. He swallows John’s deep groan when Sherlock’s hand slides down to palm at the magnificent bulge in his jeans. There’s nothing but the rush of blood and scent of John’s musk and sweat. Stepping back just enough so he can run his fingers down John’s chest, he gasps when John bites gently into his lower lip. 

“Always wanted to do that.” John's deep rumbling chuckle vibrates along ever centimeter of skin John kisses, along Sherlock's jaw, behind his ear, down his long neck, at the base of his throat. Each one makes Sherlock shiver, and he feels his knees becoming weak again. 

“Oh?” Sherlock moans, shivers coursing down his spine, the heat between them intensifying into pure fire. “What else have you always wanted to do?”

“A bit of this,” firm hands brushing over Sherlock’s sensitive nipples and Sherlock whines, actually _whines_ . “Oh. See, now that’s just lovely. You are so sensitive, sweetheart,” John murmurs. Wide hands sliding down to the plump swells of the most enticingly pert part of Sherlock’s body. “But mostly, _this_.” John accents his words with hard squeezes of the firm, rounded cheeks.

Sherlock whimpers. “Is that right?” And John responds by devouring his mouth, pushing in his tongue, and moving his hands back to the front to undo Sherlock’s trousers. 

Sherlock makes a soft startled sound and pulls back once more. “Wait, I…” 

“What,” John asks, biting the delicate shell of Sherlock’s ear. “You want this. And I want you. I’ve _always_ wanted you, Sherlock. Don’t hide yourself from me.” 

“I do, but I —- John, I feel I should tell you…” he ducks his head to his chest and a rosy blush creeps on his pale cheeks. John wants to protect that shyness as well as banish it from the face of the earth.

“Look Sherlock, I think I already know what’s got you so hesitant all of a sudden. I’ve been with all sorts of men before…”

Sherlock immediately blinks up at him, an angry pout forming. “Is that supposed to make me feel better? That’s not - oh nevermind. Go on and get it over.” 

Sherlock isn’t wearing any pants so once he gets the tailored trousers over the curve of his arse he sees Sherlock is fully hard already. And immediately and irrevocably John falls in love with Sherlock’s lovely petite cock.

John knows Sherlock isn’t going to suffer him to lie and pretend with false words, so he’s honest. “Sherlock, you have nothing to be ashamed about. It’s small but _deliciously_ so. It’s lovely, Sherlock. Just like you. It’s _perfect_.” 

Sherlock swallows, turns his head with and laughs sardonically. “Perfect is not the word for it and you know it.” He snaps, a splash of color rising in his cheeks.

John furrows his brows. “Sherlock, you think I care about this. Like I said, I’ve seen all sorts of men in the army, not necessarily slept with them and that isn’t something I really care about. I just want you.”

Sherlock huffs. 

“If you’re nervous about sex we can do other things…” 

Sherlock’s face leaps back to John’s at that. “I am not nervous about sex. I want it. I most definitely want sex with you,” Sherlock reassures him in a sultry purr. Relief has spilled into his face at the sincerity he heard in John’s voice. He picks up one of John’s hands in both of his and places a soft kiss to his knuckle. “If you want me, John Watson, I most certainly want you.” 

John growls and surges forward for another kiss; this time it’s tender, infused with love and happiness on both sides, they each melting into the other. “And I want you,” John says. A low rumble. 

He reaches out and brushed his finger over Sherlock’s cock. It _is_ pretty. Tiny and tapered, like a white baby carrot. Sherlock gasps at that slight touch, which is _interesting._ Watching Sherlock’s air-sipping reactions, John cups Sherlock’s cock with two fingers, admiring the pale soft flesh and underneath hardness; how pretty pink the tip is, how _wet_ it is. It tells him how very aroused Sherlock is by his presence. It lies against his broad, small enough his hand can cover and engulf the entire length. 

“And I want this.” He states firmly, squeezing Sherlock’s cock so he can’t mistake his point.

“You - want,” Sherlock’ splutters, his voice emerges higher than usual, little lower than a squeak really. His blue eyes widening and his mouth falling open in a gape; John finds it maddeningly adorable. “...you want me to…” His hand flaps in the air a bit.

“You to fuck me, yeah. I typically bottom as a matter of fact.”

“Ah, I see.” Pink floods Sherlock’s cheeks. He looks more than a little pleased, the uncertainty vanishing. Suddenly, his nose twitches, rather like a bunny -- something Sherlock does when he’s considering something, and something John’s always found terribly endearing. 

“I think I can manage that.” Sherlock clears his throat before adding, “And then….” He looks up at John through long lashes, a true coquette in every respect. It only takes John a second to cotton on and his cock, which has been at half-mast the entire night, hardens so quickly and at the thought of Sherlock arse perked out for John to fuck, he’s afraid his cock is going break the zipper on his jeans. 

“I’ll fuck you,” his voice deepens, the husky lust of it pushing at every edge.

Sherlock suddenly deciding now is the time for games suddenly, shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. “Perhaps.” 

He twirls right out of John’s space and sways into the kitchen. _The kitchen!_ John’s brows snap together. 

“Oh, no you don’t.” John grunts, grabbing his wrist, stopping him. “I know what you’re doing, Sherlock. One of your games to rile me up, make me wait.” He scoops Sherlock up under his arse and lifts, and Sherlock immediately starts pealing out giggles. “I can take you being a tease, but you’re not going torture my cock any more.” He carries his skinny detective to the kitchen where he promptly deposits him onto the table, shoving over the miscellaneous notes and papers out of the way. 

Like this, without his long legs giving him his height, Sherlock loses his height difference, a unique situation, and one he might be nervous about the vulnerability it brings him, however he surprisingly loves it. Almost as much as he loves feeling John’s broader body holding him. 

“I was working on those,” Sherlock gives a pretend pout. 

“Fuck those cases, it’s time for me to worship every part of your delicious little body, my sweet detective.” John murmurs gruffly. He places his hands on Sherlock's hips, fingers locking into the thin bone beneath soft skin. John kisses his mouth over the fair auburn trail of hair down to Sherlock's penis. He looks back up to find Sherlock swallowing, eyes open in adoration. 

“I love you so much, Sherlock. Let me show you. I want to taste you, Sherlock. Can I?” 

Sherlock’s mouth gapes for an instant. No one has ever bothered to give him a blow job. Could he be pretending for Sherlock’s sake. The bulge in John’s jeans only seems to be getting bigger, jutting outward obscenely; perhaps he really is aroused by Sherlock’s smallness. 

“Yes. That would be…” His nose crinkles again and John is afraid Sherlock is about to renew his uncertainty. “Good ...if you don’t mind that is.” 

“Not at all.” John smiles at him warmly. He drops his gaze to Sherlock’s penis. “Look how pretty you are. So lovely.” His groan of praise is mostly a deep rumble. He looks back up at Sherlock, who does his rapid blinking and fluttering eyelid thing again while John waits to make sure he receives the all clear. 

Sherlock nods his assent. 

John doesn’t waste another second. He sticks out his tongue to cradle Sherlock’s length only long enough to hear a delicious whimper above him. The velvet hardness is perfect, and he tastes even better, so John immediately puts Sherlock’s whole cock inside his lips with scrumptious ease. 

Sherlock nearly squeals. 

“Delicious.” John comments, swirling his tongue around Sherlock, relishing the ease of it; there’s no choking - it just hits the roof of his mouth; no stretching of his lips - he makes sure to tighten his mouth and hollow his cheeks to bring Sherlock as much pleasure as possible. And by God, does he. Sherlock’s head is tipped back, his mouth wet and gaping open from pleasure. 

John groans deep in his throat. John’s cock is painfully hard now but he ignores that in lieu of praising Sherlock, telling him how delicious he tastes, how much he loves those desperate, high sounds Sherlock keeps making. Sherlock tries pushing John away but John isn’t having it. He wraps a hand around Sherlock’s arse to keep him as close as he can while Sherlock’s knees shake and he comes.

“Ah-ah-ah,” Sherlock’s voice breaks into shuddering wails. John swallows and laps him up - animal, greedy. 

“Trembling fiercely from his come-down, John holds onto his hip and arse for support, letting his fingers lightly glide across silken skin. Eventually Sherlock smiles triumphantly down at him, his face flushed crimson, his lips swollen and red and John can barely contain the rising tide of love and affection he has for this beautiful, clever being. Eventually Sherlock’s breaks into something upset and confused.

“But I thought you wanted me to fuck you. Why did you make me come like that?” 

“To be honest, I couldn’t help myself -- you’re exquisitely pretty when you come. Beyond that,” -- John steps in between Sherlock’s thighs, shoving them open and pressing hand hand to push against Sherlock’s stomach while scooping his arse closer, a little past the edge of the table --- “there’s nothing to stop that from still happening.” He slips a finger down, trailing it along the cleft of Sherlock’s smooth cheeks, eyes hungrily catching how Sherlock shivers. 

“As ever Watson you know me too well.” Sherlock pants, biting his bottom lip to keep from being too loud. 

“Well, not yet.” John grins, sliding it back and forth up along the deep seam of Sherlock’s arse, each pass through pushing it further in, until he finds his prize -- the tiny, tight muscle of Sherlock’s hole.

The reaction is instantaneous: Sherlock spreads his knees even wider, a broken whimper of encouragement slipping out from between his lips. 

“Okay...I’ve barely touched you there,” John chuckles slowly. “But, I do want to put my fingers inside you, that okay?” John asks gently, pressing a kiss to the corner of Sherlock’s parted lips.

“I am -- amenable.” Sherlock gasps. 

Before going ahead John reaches for the lube packets in his jeans and applies it to his fingers. “Knees up,” John says in a gentle command. Sherlock complies, lifting both feet and sets them flat on the edge of the tabletop, his legs tucked against his chest in a smooth and graceful motion that has John snarling in lust at the display of flexibility. 

He slips his hand back between Sherlock’s arse and rubs a fingertip against his little hole, this time his mouth is ready to capture when Sherlock’s breath catches audibly, hitching up, eyelashes fluttering. His whole body starts shaking in anticipation, so John wraps an arm around his middle to support him as he continues focusing on the lush little muscle with his fingertip with slow rubs across it.

“Get on with it,” Sherlock whimpers, and finally realizing how badly he’s already shivering, he clutches onto John’s shoulders. John doesn’t do anything but continue his massaging, gentle circling until he presses oh so slightly against it, and then slightly more, and even more. When the tip finally breaches his body, Sherlock bows forward, holding onto John’s wide shoulders like a liferaft while he makes the most carnally beautiful keen John has ever heard in his life. Only matched in intensity by John's deep moan of appreciation.

Inspired by Sherlock’s reactions, John wiggles his finger further inside the tight hole, waiting for it to relax before slipping to the second knuckle. He stays there at that depth for a minute or two, just so he can pet Sherlock from the inside. Remarkably smooth and soft and _tight._ John’s cock throbs but pushes it down. A fantastic choice, he gets to watch Sherlock slowly fall apart with pleasure. His eyes flutter half-closed, an almost dazed expression falls across his face as he makes helpless little sounds, and it’s all John can to do to keep his sanity. One of those sounds half forms the word, “more,” and that’s all John needs. He shoves his finger the rest of the way to the third knuckle. 

Sherlock cries out.

“Too much?”

“Hnnggg, ah - no, it’s good.”

John’s nostrils flare, as he forces himself to wait while Sherlock’s virgin passage begins to relax around the intrusion. He presses a soft kiss to each of Sherlock’s pale inner thighs which have begun to quake. 

The second finger goes ever slower. Sherlock feels them, millimeter by millimeter, the wonderful sensation of callouses as John’s thick fingers fill him up. John moves them at an excruciatingly glacial pace, and Sherlock’s every muscle vibrates against John’s chest. He puffs wet breaths against John’s shoulder, unable to stop the broken mews spilling out. 

The delicious tight clench of Sherlock’s arse around his fingers is beyond incredible, it makes John’s cock jump. John grunts when a sudden stroke of his fingertips glaze across Sherlock’s prostate, making Sherlock bleat out a piteous sound. He wants to devour every piece of Sherlock’s body but he will happily settle with the pleasing sight of Sherlock’s lovely little cock, now rehardened with a tiny pearl of precum at the tip no less. 

Sherlock makes a pretty mewl of the loss of penetration when John withdraws his fingers and they aggressively rip open his fly and shove down his jeans. 

“Alright, it’s time. You’re going to fuck me, Sherlock,” John growls.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are welcome and very appreciated!


End file.
